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“Mad” King Ludwig II of Bavaria was born on August 25, 1845 — arguably a century or two too late. He so revered the absolute monarchs that preceded him — France’s “Sun King” Louis XVI, the romantic Viking and German kings featured in Richard Wagner’s operas — that he plunged his family into epic debt dotting Bavaria with fairytale castles and chateaux that were all way out of proportion to the modest power he wielded as a mere constitutional monarch. His obsession with these projects and utter lack of interest in issues of state ultimately led to his deposition on trumped-up grounds of mental instability, followed almost immediately by his mysterious death. But a tour of his architectural ode to absolute power seemed a fitting itinerary for shaking down Bavaria’s latest powerhouse coupe, the Audi RS 5.

First a bit about our hero (the car), which is going on sale in Germany presently, but isn’t expected to arrive on our shores until fall 2012, as a 2013 model (unless perhaps a groundswell of enthusiastic pleas from the Audi faithful persuade them otherwise — start sending those cards and emails!). Relative to the already swell S5 coupe, the RS 5 gets more power, more grip, better electronics and even new bodywork. To accommodate the wider standard 19-inch wheels and tires (not to mention the flashy five-spoke 20-inchers fitted to our tester), the front and rear fenders bulge outward in a very subtle nod to the mighty Quattro racer. More aggressive front and rear fascias add 0.6 inch to the space required for parallel parking, sporty side sills and matte-silver mirror caps and trim add to the menacing look that swiveled heads throughout Bavaria. There’s also a discrete rear spoiler that rises from its location flush with the decklid at 75 mph to enhance high-speed stability.

Mechanical improvements begin with the 4.2-liter V-8, which is hand built in Gyor, Hungary. Relative to the similar size engine in the S5 coupe, friction is reduced in the cylinder bores and cam chain drive, while intelligent charging and on-demand oil-pressure delivery further reduce parasitic losses. The rotating assembly is hardened for higher-revving performance, compression is increased from 11.4:1 to 12.3:1, and the direct fuel injection, variable cam timing, exhaust-backpressure-relief valve programming, and perhaps even the glovebox illumination intensity have all been optimized for maximum thrust, which registers at 444 horsepower at 8250 rpm and 317 pound-feet of torque at 4000 rpm (the S5’s 4.2 produces 354 horses at 7000 rpm and 325 pound-feet at 3500 rpm). That copious power is routed first through Audi‘s superb new S-tronic seven-speed twin-clutch automatic and then to a new quattro system featuring a crown-gear center differential that splits torque 40/60 front/rear under normal circumstances, with the capability of sending 70 percent of available torque forward or 85 percent aft as conditions dictate. (The input shaft spins four pins, each with a small spur gear on it that engages front and rear ring gears. When no wheels are slipping, the whole thing turns as a unit, but slippage at one axle or the other causes rotation that imparts a thrust that engages friction materials that boost torque to the axle with better grip.)

The bodywork is lowered onto the chassis, but the bigger wheels keep overall vehicle height within a tenth of an inch of the S5’s. Audi Drive Select is also standard, tailoring the adjustable shocks as well as the throttle response, exhaust-backpressure-valve tuning, torque-vectoring strategy, transmission shift logic, and the Servotronic steering system’s effort and ratio (it can even countersteer slightly if necessary). Front brakes are uprated from 13.6 to 14.4 inches for the base steel setup, and a carbon-ceramic option brings 15.0-inch front vented and cross-drilled rotors (rears are 12.8-inch vented and drilled steel rotors in all cases).

Before embarking on our lap of the Ludwigsring, we drove west to Mindelheim Mattsies Airport, where our friends at Ruf Automobiles in neighboring Pfaffenhausen helped arrange a test session for us. Acceleration testing was made trivially easy by the RS 5’s terrific launch-control system. Set Drive Select to Dynamic, switch off stability control, engage manual shift mode, depress the brake, quickly floor the accelerator, and the revs jump to 5000 rpm for a perfect launch when you release the brake. Abetted by short first- and second-gear ratios and all-wheel drive, the 0-30 launch time is just 1.5 seconds. There was one complicating factor: For some reason, the launch was often accompanied by a loss of power to the 12-volt socket, momentarily fritzing our test gear. We developed a work-around and measured a 0-60 time of 4.3 seconds and a quarter-mile run at 12.8 sec at 108.2 mph. That’s two-tenths quicker to 60; three-tenths and 3 mph better than the S5 coupe in the quarter. Braking from 60 mph took just 101 feet, four less than our steel-braked S5 needed. And that big fancy footwear boosted lateral grip from 0.90 to 0.97 g.

With those numbers in hand, we embarked on our Ludwig quest, starting out at his birthplace, Nymphenburg Palace, a splendid Italianate summer retreat in what is now suburban Munich. The big, high-revving coupe feels totally docile and domesticated in dense traffic, its converter-less transmission launching and shifting seamlessly in full auto mode (touch the button for Dynamic mode, however, and the exhaust instantly becomes snarlier — even at idle). The Baroque excesses of the “nymph’s castle” no doubt establish the living standard to which the future king became accustomed. The young king’s garish carriages and sleighs on display here stand in stark contrast to the reserve modern Bavarians in the transportation business exercise on vehicles like the RS 5, though his carriagemaker was credited with some rudimentary suspension innovation on a plaque.

The next stop was Schloss Linderhof, about 60 miles south down the A95 autobahn. Just as the Munich traffic recedes, a 911 Cabrio and a Bentley Continental loom in the mirrors, clicking along at about 240 kmh (150 mph), and we ease into their swift-moving slipstream, as the exhaust’s rich Barry White tone sings its way up an octave. As expected, there is absolutely no lightening of the steering or nervous feeling at the helm, though the two-inch-high granite curbstones that inexplicably line the fast lane of many German autobahns serve to keep ones attention focused. Drift left a bit during a moment’s inattention and they’d destroy a 275/30R20 sidewall with catastrophic results. Linderhof is distinguished as the only castle Ludwig actually finished and lived in for any length of time, and it’s grandly appointed, but sort of pitiful in a way. His life in this compact castle was that of an eccentric hermit. He received very few visitors, and he dined alone on a table that was set and filled with food in the room below and elevated into position so as to minimize contact with the servants.

Our next destination is Fussen, Germany, and the nearby Schlossen Hohenschwangau and Neuschwanstein, a mere 28 miles away through and around the Bavarian Alps. In hard, twisty running, the car leverages its big footprint, quattro AWD, CCM brakes, and copious electronics to translate its modest horsepower and torque (as supercoupes go these days) into class-leading real-world performance. Electronic yaw control and that magic crown-gear diff just seem to meter the ideal amount of torque out to each wheel, and the transmission’s sport logic is virtually telekinetic. The RS 5 is so sure-footed that we never detected any wheelslip or stability intervention, even on damp roads. One tiny complaint: The CCM brakes are slightly touchy, more difficult to modulate precisely, they sometimes deliver a bit more whoa than desired. One more: Some of the more serious road imperfections occasionally elicited an untoward clunk or creak from the structure when pressing hard in Dynamic mode.

Steering effort is light, but the control is beyond reproach, requiring no mid-course correction or herding under any conditions. Hohenschwangau was the summer residence Ludwig’s father had rebuilt in the Gothic style, where the crown prince spent much of his youth, and above which his ultimate fairy-tale castle, Neuschwanstein is situated on a promontory. It was the inspiration for Walt Disney’s castles and is probably the most photographed building in Germany if not Europe. The castle featured many technical innovations, like a battery-powered bell system for calling servants, telephone lines, a Rumford oven that used heat to turn a skewer automatically, plus central heating, running warm water, and toilets with automatic flushing. It also featured a whole wing of “ladies’ apartments,” a curious superfluity, given the fact that Ludwig never married nor was known to consort with women at all. He rejected arranged marriages and called off a planned wedding to his first cousin and bosom buddy, the Duchess Sophie, all of which — along with his affinity for over-the-top interior decorating — heightens modern-day speculation that he was gay.

The last stop on our Ludwigsring tour is the island palace, Herrenchiemsee, patterned after the central section of the palace of Versailles. The roughly two and a half hour drive east affords plenty of time to revel in this ritzy interior’s many sybaritic pleasures: the 10-channel, 14-speaker Bang & Olufsen sound system; the sport bucket seats; the black, silver, and carbon trim. Turn the stereo down, however, and you hear a bit more tire noise sneaking up from the meaty Dunlops than seems appropriate. Herrenchiemsee has been uncharitably described as “a monument to uncreative megalomania,” and once again most of the castle remains unfinished. The formal gardens and the rooms that were completed, however, do reasonable justice to Louis Quatorze’s original vision. All three of the castles Ludwig designed were opened by the Bavarian state as tourist attractions not long after his death, so they’ve probably generated far more revenue than building them consumed. It wasn’t state money per se that built them in the first place, so it’s little wonder the Bavarian people still love and revere their fairytale king, the Moon King, Ludwig II.

Americans may eventually come to love and revere Audi’s RS 5 as well. There’s certainly plenty to love: power, performance, burly and sensuous styling, a sublime engine note, and a splendid interior. The big question mark is cost. German pricing starts at an eye-watering $82,133 (before 19-percent VAT at current exchange rates). Applying the same roughly 15-percent discount, the S5 gets on its way to our shores puts the base at around $71,000. Add roughly $5500 for the CCM brakes and $2000 for special paint and the 20-inch wheels, and we’re guessing our test car rings in at $78,500 — a good 10 grand up on neighboring BMW‘s M3. That’s a tough pill to swallow, given how good the twin-clutch M3 is, but this is a far more comfortable car and one that’s prepared to fill in some gaps in natural driving ability with electronic expertise. How much of that do you need to pay for?